


Ouroboros

by PlumTea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: In the heat of summer, Iwaizumi finds himself getting hungry.





	Ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thispuppyflies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispuppyflies/gifts).



Between the crushed mosquito is a smudge of blood. Oikawa wrinkles his nose, flicking the shell off his body. “Ugh! That’s going to itch for a week!”

“Don’t scratch at it.”

“It’ll feel prickly by tonight!” Oikawa glares at the sun as if that would burn it out of the sky. “It’s so hot.”

Iwaizumi can’t look away as Oikawa grumbles, leaning over the balcony and dropping his head down, exposing his neck to the summer air. The back of Oikawa’s neck is slightly sunburnt, all the lotions he rubs on his skin every day unable to hold off the inevitable. Pink stands out among the whites of his hair follicles and the sheen of sweat.

Oikawa’s skin is hot under Iwaizumi’s lips. Oikawa shudders one moment and sighs the next. Iwaizumi kisses the same spot again and a hunger surges through his gums, wanting more of that sweet tenderness, forever.

Oikawa yelps, and jerks his head back so fast he nearly bashes his skull into Iwaizumi’s nose. He rubs his neck, and between his fingers is pale skin around a print of bite marks.

The summer heat rushes to Iwaizumi’s cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that--”

Looking off the balcony, the sun turns Oikawa’s face red. “…I don’t mind. But warn me next time, and don’t bite in such an obvious place! I’m going to have to tack on a band-aid!”

 

* * *

 

 The burning humidity flattens everything with its oppressive weight and sends Iwaizumi’s dreams into a hazy swirl. Iwaizumi is sitting at the dinner table, sipping at a mild bowl of okayu. Oikawa is in the kitchen, back turned as he hums the tune to one of his favorite songs. His back is broad, and covers up the cutting board. When Iwaizumi tries to sneak a peek at what Oikawa is cooking, all he gets is a sharp _shh._

A ripe hunk of steak is placed in front of Iwaizumi, sweet sauces tickling his nose. Not only is it Oikawa’s cooking, but it smells heavenly. The meat shears red under the knife, and Iwaizumi wants to stuff it into his mouth all at once.

“Is it good?” Oikawa asks, bending over by the plate. There, Iwaizumi sees how Oikawa’s white shirt is as brown as the steak sauce, and his waist dips in far more than it ever should. “Delicious, right?”

Iwaizumi wakes up with his breath short in his throat, and a faint sweet taste in the corner of his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa’s gyoza are misshapen at best and a clay project gone wrong at worst. They’re clumsily pinched together, and Iwaizumi can see where Oikawa rolled the dough unevenly. He prods at one, and the tip of his fingernail punctures the dough and oily juices leak out onto the plate. By comparison, his are fairly uniform and put-together.

“Looks good.”

“It’s not perfect.”

“Everything you make is good enough.”

Oikawa huffs, but a smile perks up his cheeks as he goes back to work. His limbs are long, perfect for lunging saves and heaving up enough force to slam the ball down on the other side of the court. The same fingers that bounce up ruthless tosses are carefully folding the rest of the gyoza.

Iwaizumi runs his finger idly along Oikawa’s wrist, down to the joints of his pointer finger. Are Oikawa’s bones the same color as the dough under his palms? What shade lies beneath his tendons and his joints? What secrets are wrapped under his muscles, in the hollow of his ribs? He traces a finger up Oikawa’s arms, across his shoulders, and down to his heart, lingering in the dip of Oikawa’s chest, quietly.

Oikawa pauses, and puts his hand on Iwaizumi’s, his touch drifting across the small hills of his knuckles. The wool of his sleeves tickles Iwaizumi’s wrist, but what hushes him is Oikawa’s soft, “Is that what you want to see?”

Yes, all of it. “Everything.”

Oikawa nods, eyes closing then fluttering up with gentle ease. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Oikawa runs a finger along Iwaizumi’s lip, nail tapping against teeth, and brings their lips together. Calloused fingers run along Iwaizumi’s jaw, two breaths drowning in one, Oikawa’s lips being soft but chewed on the sides, all fire and all air. A sharp grind down onto Iwaizumi’s hips send him groaning, hands all on Oikawa’s thighs.

There is no beginning or end between the two of them.

Iwaizumi finds the meat of Oikawa’s side and traces the lines, down, down down,

“Take a bite,” comes a whisper behind him, and he feels familiar rough fingers drum along his face. “You know you want to.” A crescent smile behind him, a mirror of Oikawa pressing itself behind him. Fingers slide up his cheeks, covering his eyes until all he feels is a pulsing thrum and the dark. His heart is frantic, but he feels it all; the sweat rolling down his back and Oikawa’s smooth skin sliding against him, and the spasms of his thighs and hears it all too; the short breaths from both their mouths and the low chuckle behind him.

“Is this enough for you?” is taunting, maddening, knowing. “Is this everything you want?” Haunting darkness presses against his eyelashes as that intoxicating voice, too familiar, all in his head and real at the same time, tickles him so full of need. It doesn’t matter if he knows Oikawa two or ten or a hundred years, he wants to know _everything_ , shine a light into places nobody else can see.

Oikawa’s fingers laces into Iwaizumi’s hair, and softness presses up against his lips. Before they can move, Iwaizumi snaps his teeth onto Oikawa’s lower lip, sinking down enough for pressure but not enough to hurt. He lets go with a gasp, horrified at diving too fast.

“Can I?” Iwaizumi asks. He feels a tension under his hands, and pauses. “Only if you want.”

“Why?” comes breathless and small.

“I want all of you. Everything.”

A laugh that tickles Iwaizumi’s ears, then, “Go ahead.”

The first bite is the hardest- he has to angle his head to reach Oikawa’s side, and his teeth aren’t sharp- but once he breaks skin and tastes the tanginess of blood, everything slices with ease. Oikawa sighs, happiness in a puff of breath, and Iwaizumi tears and chews.

“Take another,” whispers behind him.

He does, and it’s sweet and fills his mouth. Blood oozes faster than syrup, but inside he tastes the vitality that fuels the bright sun that is Oikawa. There are no secrets under his bones, and all his muscles, as foreign as they are to the tongue, are things Iwaizumi has already known. Against him is tight breathing that transcends into a laugh.

Oikawa hums, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. A prick, like a hornet’s ruthless sting, and Iwaizumi gasps. Oikawa draws back, smile on his bloodied lips. His tongue darts out, slurping the blood up, and Iwaizumi stirs with fascination. How could he forget that he wasn’t the only hungry one, that Oikawa has an appetite that can swallow up the stars? Did he think that he was the only curious one?

“You taste good, Iwa-chan.”

“You do too.”

No secrets to unburden, no passages to reveal. They knew this from the start, but hungered to confirm, as they tear into each other with flat-toothed fangs.

There is no beginning or end between the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I just live here now.


End file.
